When Moving On Isn't an Option
by PlainTrudy
Summary: Harry dies, but Death gives him two options, but neither passing on to be with his lost loved ones not going back and continuing his wonderful life are included. So what can he do? And how will he cope with his choice? Gen for now. Rated T as a just in case. Feel free to copy the idea, just let me know if you do. MoD!Harry DeAged!Harry May be some OoC, I apologize ahead.


**AN: Hey, this is Trudy; I don't own anything I'm writing but the basic plot and the being representing Death (but she won't show up that often so...) I have been a member of FF for awhile but rarely write stories as I don't always like my own writing. As I said in the summary, I am perfectly fine with someone taking the idea behind this story and twisting it to create their own story, just let me know so that I can read it XD With that and my disclaimer... I hope you all like it! 3**

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He had died. Sure it wasn't the first time this had happened, no that was when he willingly took a direct hit from a Killing Curse back when he was seventeen. But there were quite a few differences between that time and this one. The first difference was that he was now twelve years older, an auror, happily married to Ginny, and father of three children: four years-old James, three years-old Albus, and one year-old Lily. The next would be that he had accepted that he was going to die and had been doing it to help save the world and everyone he loved; this time had been a complete surprise and total accident. There was also the whole Get-Out-of-Death-Free Horcrux he had back then, that as far he was aware, had never been replaced. The last difference between the two deaths would be how he came to be such, and how utterly humiliating the way he had died this time was, as it certainly been something as cool as the eighth time facing his mortal enemy, who had been trying to kill him since birth, and being brought down by a curse that he were the only known survivor of, because it was needed to save the world. No, Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, The Man-Who-Won, The Chosen One, The Next Merlin, the only known person who survived the Killing Curse (twice!), Lord Potter-Black, Savior of the Wizarding World had died because he tripped over a toy and cracked open his head on a table corner.

Harry ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, and walked over to the edge of the platform, looking down the empty tracks for a sign of the train to the next life, if he had to die like that couldn't they at least have had the train waiting for him?

"Well, you have caused quite a problem."

Harry whirled to face the porcelain-pale woman that had spoken, his hand going out automatically, only to drop as he realized he hadn't been wearing his wand holster, and that he wasn't being attacked.

She looked at him for a moment with calm, almost emotionless, dark gray eyes, that for some reason reminded Harry of bottomless wells, before brushing a midnight strand of hair behind her ear with a long, thin finger, before speaking again. "As I said you have caused quite a problem. You weren't supposed to have died yet; the triplets had a nice long life planned out for you, not to mention my own issues with what happened. Not really your fault I suppose, if Luck could just get over her grudge then-." Her explanation-turned-rant came to a halt has the dead auror interrupted, throwing his hands up in front of him as if to physically stop the stranger's train-of-thought from running him over.

"Wait! What? Who are the triplets? And for that matter, who are you?! Luck has a grudge against me? Why?! And I'm supposed to have a long life? Does that mean I can go back?"

The woman blinked slowly, as if she wasn't sure if he didn't know or was just joking with her. She must have decided he was serious because she tucked the clipboard she had been holding under her arm, and backed up her explanation, "The triplets are the three you spent most of your teenage years complaining about: Fate, Destiny, and Prophecy. I'm Death and-" she stopped again with a sigh as he held up his hands to stop her again, "Yes?"

"You're Death? I thought you'd be more…" Harry took his first real look at the woman in front of him. She had an ageless beauty to her, and now that he tried he to pinpoint an age range, he realized he couldn't, another previously unnoticed fact was that she was actually a couple inches taller than him. Her hair was past shoulder length and tucked into the ragged, black robe, which kind of reminded him of the robes worn by dementors, or the Grim Reaper. Actually once she pulled up the hood… All she was missing was the scythe!

"Male, I know, most people think that, and that I'm made only of bones. But it's not like I can argue." She responded, waving off the comment before continuing answering the earlier questions. "Luck doesn't really have a grudge against you in particular… Rather she has a grudge against your bloodline, going back to the three Peverell Brothers. Or more specifically, when I met them and gave them each an item. See Luck had been trying to trick me into giving them to her for a long time, and on that day Fate warned me I had to get rid of them otherwise Luck would succeed. So I went down to your world and pulled them out of the river, and with their life debts asked them to each watch over an item for me. To the eldest I gave my scythe, in the form of the only weapon he knew how to use, a wand; the middle one I gave the Viewing Stone; and the last I gave the Veil, which hid those who weren't ready to pass on.

"With my items safe from the hands of Luck, I returned to my duties, which irritatingly enough included picking up the oldest brother that night and the middle brother within a month. Thankfully though, both my scythe and the doors had been taken by new owners by then, so my items have been safe, and she has only grown more hateful of their guardians since then.

"Let's see… What was next? Right, yes, the triplets had planned a long life for you, but no, you won't be returning to it, after all your soul can't say in a dead body, and your body won't be able to be brought back to life with that head injury, and healing that isn't possible."

"So basically, you held up my travel to the next life, to tell me a story and give me false hope for seeing my children grow up?" He bit back angrily, the fact that he was _still_ the Master of Death ignored entirely in favor of his disappointment. He furiously turned away from the woman to glare at the train tracks. "So, when will the train arrive?"

The woman made a growling sound in her throat. "If that's all it was, I wouldn't be _wasting_ my time talking to you!"

The emerald-eyed man whirled back to face Death, "Then why?!"

"You are currently claimed by all three of my items, that makes you the 'Master of Death'" She explained with an undertone of amusement, as if anyone being her master was a ridiculous notion. "Now that in no way gives you any control over me, so don't even bother trying, but it does mean I can't let you continue on. There are only two options, and one would allow you to be back with your family, though knowing your kind I think you will choose the other. The first option is the possession of one of your children, most likely your younger son, as he is the closest match to your old form; however that will force your son's soul to take your place in the next life." The man looked repulsed at the very idea of doing so, the Grim Reaper continued with the other option, "The only other choice is I place you in a toddler form of your current self and send you to an alternate world from your own. You won't have all your memories at first, but they'll come back over time. Your choice?"

Harry glared at the being in front of him, "Do I really have one? I'm not killing my son!"

"Well then, alternate universe baby it is then." She replied giving a light smile, and pulling her clipboard out from under her arm. She made a quick mark on the top paper, and then the world went dark for the wizard.


End file.
